


Flashes of Love

by ddynoliaeth



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Body Swap, M/M, Male Solo, Masturbation, Solo, misuse of miracles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-23 20:15:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19708609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ddynoliaeth/pseuds/ddynoliaeth
Summary: Crowley had a few hours in between arriving back in the Earthly realm from Heaven and the time he could safely meet up with Aziraphale. He knew exactly how he wanted to waste them.





	Flashes of Love

It was not a mild night. Considering that, yesterday, the world had not ended as intended, and today an angel and a demon had not been executed as intended, one would think it would be a mild night. It had been a mild day. The night, however, was gloomy. Not quite dark and stormy, but it had that certain feeling in the air that threatened to turn darker and stormier at any moment, if someone were to just give it a little push in the wrong direction.

Inside a small antique bookshop in London’s Soho, said angel and said demon sat in comfortable companionship, drinking a lovely shiraz cheerily from delicate wine glasses. The angel, the Principality Aziraphale, smiled sweetly as he gently placed his glass on the table beside him. He watched as the demon, the Temptation Crowley, swallowed the last of his own wine, his throat tensing exquisitely, and poured himself another. He lounged on the chaise, bootless feet crossed at the ankles. The two were not yet drunk, but they were definitely heading in that direction - Aziraphale stepping primly from glass to glass while Crowley sauntered right up to the concept and scared it into backing up.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale began hesitantly. Crowley hummed in response, his head lolling to the side to look at him from behind his signature sunglasses. “I’m not certain if this is an… appropriate question, but.” He paused. Crowley waved a hand in a vague gesture that translated roughly to ‘I don’t believe in inappropriate questions, go ahead and ask’.

“It’s just… Since getting back from, well, your ‘end of town’, I’ve felt… What’s the word?”

“Happy? Adrift? Tempted? What?” Crowley offered.

“Different.”

“That doesn’t help, Angel.”

“Well, it’s only that, since we switched back, there’s been a definite change in the way my corporeal form feels.”

“In what way?”

“You recall when we were in Tadfield? The first time, I mean. When we were trying to find Adam’s birth records?”

“How could I forget?” Crowley meant it. The memory of pushing Aziraphale up against the wall as he growled in his face made him all tingly.

“Remember how I spoke about the manor? How it felt loved?”

Crowley thought. If this was headed where he thought it was headed, things were about to get apocalyptic in a very different way.  
  
“That’s how my body has felt since returning to it. Have you felt anything similar? I thought perhaps it may have been an effect of it being engulfed by the flames of Hell.” The way Aziraphale said ‘Hell’ made Crowley feel things he definitely shouldn’t.

Now, there are certain points in one’s life that can be pivotal. One wrong move and everything could be changed forever, and for a demon, especially one excommunicated from Hell, forever is quite a long time. Should Crowley tell the truth? Answer that, no, in fact he felt more himself than he had in decades? Or should he lie, say that the Holy Water had changed the way his body felt, too? Wheels were in motion, both metaphorically on a small scale in Crowley’s head, and on a much larger one in the Ineffable Plan (should that still be on course, that is).

“No,” is what he said. Simple, with no unnecessary details that could incriminate him.

“It’s strange,” Aziraphale said. “I thought for sure it would be a mutual thing were it to do with the not-quite-execution.”

“Yeah,” Crowley said, trying to diffuse the situation. “I’m sure it’s just some weird angel biology thing.”

“You were once an angel yourself, I don’t believe our biology would differ _that_ much.”

There was a pause in the conversation, and it seemed as if Aziraphale may be dropping the subject altogether. Until he opened his mouth again, the great big beautiful moron that he was.

“Is there any chance you did something before we switched back that may have caused it?”

Aziraphale was thinking of perhaps that Crowley had partaken in some activities - perhaps treating himself and actually eating for once (Aziraphale’s was a very innocent mind) - but had no clue at how close he was to hitting the nail on the head with that one.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Crowley looked in the mirror. He’d just left Heaven (and, God/Satan/Whoever, that had been an uncomfortable trip down memory lane), and was now back in his flat. He had a few hours until he and Aziraphale could safely meet up without raising alarms, and he knew exactly how he wanted to fill them. Call him an arsehole, but he _was_ a demon, despite no longer being on their side, and when faced with the opportunity for a little sinful fun, he couldn’t pass it up.

Aziraphale’s face stared back at him from the mirror in his room. It was unbelievably covered in laugh lines, and worry lines, and if, gun to his head, Crowley were asked to describe it, he would say “cherubic”. Not that Aziraphale was a cherub - those bastards were more annoying than Beelzebub’s flies. But it held a sort of naïvety and the impression of eternal inner youth that could only be described by a comparison to those tiny little angel-babies in so many renaissance paintings.

Crowley smiled, and it had a hint of the Devil in it that he would never see if it were _really_ Aziraphale looking back at him. He dropped it quickly. Instead, he leaned in close to inspect the face closer, pushing and pulling at the cheeks and eyelids as he ran his hands over it. He rubbed at his chin, and glanced down.

All those clothes. Aziraphale had never been one for wearing anything that showed off any skin - just another of the many small ways he was Crowley’s antithesis. But here, now, he had a chance to find out what this body looked like underneath all those layers of stuffy fabric. Being a temptation demon, Crowley was never very good at denying its pull. It was in the job description.

The bow tie was the first to go. Tartan. Crowley had never liked the stuff. On Aziraphale it was manageable, but the idea of it touching _him_ was revolting, and not in the way he liked. Next was the coat, dumped unceremoniously at his feet. Then the waistcoat, shirt, shoes - everything, until Crowley was standing completely nude, looking at himself in the mirror.

The body was pudgier than even the clothes would imply. Crowley - Aziraphale - had a nice round belly that protruded further out than expected, probably usually hindered by layers of tight clothing. He was practically hairless, with only a very fine dusting on his arms and lower legs, so fair it was almost impossible to see. He had a galaxy of freckles over his shoulders and down his arms.

And below.

Oh, below was a sight Crowley had never thought he’d get to see. Aziraphale’s - and it was Aziraphale’s, it had to be, because if Crowley remembered the angel wasn’t actually present, the whole thing would be a moot point - cock was shorter than he’d expected. Thicker, too. It hung between his legs comfortably, but began to twitch slightly as Crowley stared. The look of it alone made Crowley salivate.

He left the mirror and slunk off to the bed in that way that he had, all hips, and settled himself into the nest of blankets and pillows. He looked up, and met his own eyes in the mirrored awning. His pupils were blown wide, and wasn’t that a strange feeling? Crowley’s eyes never usually dilated, what with being that of a snake and all. He watched as he moved his hand from his side, and ran it down his soft middle towards his cock. The moment he touched it it jumped, began to fill. He ran his fingers delicately along it, gently, much more gentle than he would his own form. Doing this in a different body required different methods, and even though Aziraphale was never going to find out, he didn’t feel right treating the body in any way other than reverently.

Watching himself move, while enjoyable for other people, had never been Crowley’s, you know, _thing_. He much rathered watching other people, consensually of course. But with these eyes, and this face, and this dick, he couldn’t help it. Wasn’t the whole point of doing this to find out answers to questions that had long been on his mind? Questions that definitely, assuredly, would never be answered in any other situation.

He was hard now, cock thick and strong. He brought his hand closer and wrapped it confidently around the length, slick with the help of a little demonic miracle, sighing and closing his eyes at the feeling. He caught himself quickly, opening his eyes and again being struck by the lack of gold and snake slit pupils. He squeezed as he watched himself move, sliding his hand up his cock and back down again, deliciously slowly. It felt as if it were the first time he was doing this again, and he considered briefly that it probably was the first time this body had done anything close to it. The thought made him twitch just slightly.

He opened his mouth and sighed, and the sound was so sweet, so gentle, so _Aziraphale_ that he bucked his hips a bit in surprise. It wasn’t his voice, and he felt a bit of a dullard having expected it to be, but this was much better.

“Oh,” he said, just to hear the sound of it. Bless, that felt good.

“Fuck,” he said, because he’d always wondered what the angel sounded like cursing.

“Please,” he hissed, loving the desperate hint to his/Aziraphale’s voice.

“Crowley,” he whispered.

Now, Crowley was not one to say his own name in times like these at all. He was a bastard and he was self-obsessed, but not even he was that in love with himself. But if was going to do this, he was going to go all out. He needed to have the experience of Aziraphale cooing his name in pleasure, just for… let’s say future reference.

He said it again, pitching it up a tad, adding more need to it. The sound went straight to his cock, and he gripped himself harder, moved a little bit faster. He wanted this to last, last forever if it could, but he also knew he had little time and he decisively would not be able to hold off for very long if he continued to flick his eyes between his mirrored face and his hand on his dick.

He wondered vaguely if Aziraphale, the real Aziraphale, would be as talkative as he was being in bed. He dismissed the thought, knowing he’d never find that out, and concentrated on the feelings flowing through the body and the holy vision that was Aziraphale’s face staring back down at him as he stroked harder.

He squirmed on the bed, grunting and moaning in a voice that was not his own, listening to the timber of his own words and feeling them fuel his lust. He’d bet good money - money that was not his own, but money nonetheless - that this body had never had the good fortune of feeling lust. It was exquisite.

One final stroke, and Crowley stared into his own eyes as he hit his peak. He came like an ultimatum had been issued - come now, or forever hold your peace. It washed over him in waves, filling what was left of his corrupted soul with an unprecedented amount of love. He could feel the desire for the real Aziraphale overwhelming him, and for just a moment he let himself feel that love. He kept it buried for so long, but every time he did this - in his own form, of course - he couldn’t help but let it come crashing down over him.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Everything was coming crashing down over him. He couldn’t lie to Aziraphale. Not after everything that happened in the last few days. Years. Decades. Millennia. The point was, was, was, was that certain things had happened, certain motives explained, and honestly Crowley was Done with pretending. He couldn’t go on like this, not after securing eternity for himself and his best friend.

“Fine. Fine. Bloody well fucking fine,” he said, sitting up and swinging his legs around to rest his feet on the floor. He was very glad he was wearing his sunglasses.

“It was me. Fuck, you don’t half go on about it whenever there’s something you don’t understand, don’t you?”

“Crowley, I’m not angry,” Aziraphale said, smiling gently. “It’s a very lovely feeling, knowing this form has been loved.”

“You don’t know the half of it, Angel,” Crowley replied, rubbing his eyes and nudging his glasses up over his forehead. “If you knew what I’d done, you wouldn’t be saying that.”

“Done?” Aziraphale had assumed, once Crowley admitted it was his fault, that the whole reason for this feeling was the solidified friendship the two shared. Some sort of amplification as both had been in the body. “My dear, what do you mean?”

“You don’t wanna know.”

Aziraphale sat and stared expectantly.

“Fuck, fine! I… You don’t understand. I don’t resist temptation. It’s not something I think I can even do.”

“Spit it out Crowley,” Aziraphale said fondly.

“I touched myself,” he said. He didn’t mean to, but Aziraphale was sitting there smiling at him and it all became just a little too much. Aziraphale, for his part, was kind enough not to smite him on the spot.

“What?” he whispered, stunned.

“I’m sorry,” Crowley said, uncharacteristically. “If I’d known there were going to be any side effects I wouldn’t have done it. I know it was wrong, but Aziraphale you must know I can’t stop myself from doing wrong! It’s what I’m built for!”

“You… You touched my body?”

Crowley groaned, looking away from Aziraphale. He couldn’t quite understand what he was seeing in the angel’s eyes, but he knew it was too much for him. “Five bloody seconds after getting out of Heaven and Hell scott free and I go and ruin everything anyway.”

“Ruin?” Aziraphale asked. “My dear, you haven’t ruined anything.”

Crowley’s head shot up like a paintball leaving what used to be a paintball gun but was now having a bit of an existential crisis and becoming a very much real gun.

“Crowley, I admit I was surprised, but you have to know - the feeling I have in this body now, it’s… it’s nothing short of holy.”

“Don’t say that,” Crowley moaned.

“Well, it is. Every moment I sit here, every step I take, it feels as if light is spilling out of my every pore. I feel at home. It feels like being in my celestial form.”

Crowley looked at Aziraphale, really looked. He could see what the angel meant - he did have a sort of shining light to him. But, to Crowley, that’s what Aziraphale had always looked like.

“So…” he ventured. “So, you’re not going to smite me?”

“Smite you? Dear boy! I could never smite someone who has given me such a gift!”

Crowley couldn’t stifle a bark of laughter at that.

“Rather, what I would like to do is make a small request of you.”

He lost his smile very quickly at that. Aziraphale seemed nervous, agitated, but not cross. Anxious, maybe. But angry? No.

“Yeah?” Crowley ventured.

“Well, it seems to me that one of us here knows me, or at least my body, very intimately, and by some twist of fate it isn’t me. I would, uh, very much like to catch up.”

Crowley’s eyebrows couldn’t be any higher if they’d ascended to Heaven without him. “You want me to teach you how to masturbate?” His voice had joined his eyebrows.

“When you put it that way it sounds rather crass,” Aziraphale said. “But, yes.”

And that’s how Crowley found himself sitting in a plush armchair, looking at a very red Aziraphale sitting cross-legged and stiff backed on a queen size bed in a miraculously materialized room at the back of Aziraphale’s bookshop. The angel had his hands clasped daintily in his lap, waiting with baited expectation for his first instruction.

“You’re gonna have to lose the clothes, Angel,” Crowley said. He felt very much out of his depth - unusual for a temptation demon. Usually he was all over sullying innocents, but this was Aziraphale they were talking about. It’s all a whole lot trickier when there’s _feelings_ involved.

Aziraphale was suddenly nude on the bed. He hadn’t even lifted his hand to snap. Miracles were something he was able to perform whenever he liked now. It’s not as if Heaven would be reprimanding him any longer.

The air he didn’t need was punched out of Crowley’s lungs. He didn’t think he’d ever get to see the sight before him again. Especially not with his own eyes, and not the ones looking expectantly at him. He swallowed.

“Right,” he said, then paused to collect his rampant thoughts. “Right, well, you might want to lie down. Gets a bit tricky keeping your posture when you’re doing stuff like this.”

“Oh!” Aziraphale said, scrambling to lie down. “Of course. Makes complete sense.”

This was going to be harder than Crowley thought - pun unintended, but definitely a result of six thousand years of inappropriate jokes.

“Now, don’t go too fast,” he said. “You’re gonna want to race to the finish line, but it’s the drive down that’s the good bit.

“Start slow. It’s not all about your cock-” oh how lovely it felt to be saying that to Aziraphale of all people “-there are other places that’ll get you going.”  
  
“Like where?” Aziraphale asked, already a little breathy.

“Nipples are the obvious choice.”

“Where do you like to touch?” Aziraphale asked, and Crowley’s brain short-circuited for a moment as if Witchfinder Private Pulsifer had gone poking around in there.

“Where do I…? Uh, in my body I like the thighs, and the arse. But I noticed the bit yours likes most is the belly. Not surprising - you’re always focused on your stomach.”

Aziraphale snorted a tiny, dainty laugh, which turned into a soft whimper as he stroked his stomach softly. The skin was so soft - Crowley could remember marvelling at the difference between it and his own. Aziraphale was soft all over.

“Now slide your hand down. That’s it, the drive down, remember.”

Aziraphale followed instructions like he was created for it. Which, Crowley mused, was true. But, just as he rebelled in his own little ways against the orders of Heaven, he did the same here and grabbed his own cock without any prompting. Crowley had to close his eyes against the sound of air rushing out of Aziraphale’s mouth.

“Fuck, Angel,” he whispered, too low for Aziraphale to hear. He was getting hard in his trousers, and he definitely didn’t need Aziraphale noticing _that_. “Make sure your hand is slick,” he said, louder. Aziraphale miracled some sort of lubricant onto his hand without removing it from his cock. “Softly, gently, not too fast. Feel yourself. Figure out what you like.”

“You already know what I like,” Aziraphale said, looking at Crowley. His pupils were blown wide just as they had been when Crowley had been inhabiting the body. “Can’t you just tell me?”

“Sorry, Angel,” Crowley said. “I’ve got my own thing that gets me off. You’ll have to find yours yourself.

“Think of something you love. Something that makes you want to buck into your hand. Something that makes your cock throb just at the mere notion of it.”

“Oh!” Aziraphale said, hips lifting slightly and eyes falling closed as his mouth fell open. Crowley wanted those eyes back on him. “Oh, yes, Crowley.”

To say Crowley had a reaction to that would be an understatement. He swore under his breath and gripped the arms of his plush chair, trying not to let his hips fuck the air without him. He cleared his throat.

“Keep thinking,” he said. “Follow the lust. You look so beautiful sinning, Angel.”

Fuck. He really hadn’t meant to say that last bit.

But Aziraphale seemed unbothered by it. In fact, he tightened his grip, craning his neck back and tempting Crowley to miracle himself over there and bite at it. “Crowley,” he whispered again.

Maybe Crowley could get away with a bit more.

“What are you thinking about?” He asked, testing his luck.

“You,” Aziraphale whispered, clearly unintentionally. He stopped moving and slapped his free hand over his mouth, eyes flying open. He glanced over at Crowley. The sunglasses were still on his face, expression unreadable, but if the straining fabric of his trousers had anything to say about the matter, Aziraphale surmised that he perhaps didn’t mind.

Aziraphale removed his hand from his mouth and, keeping perfect eye contact with Crowley through dark tinted lenses, slowly dragged his other hand up his cock again.

That’s where Crowley’s frayed self control finally broke. He was over Aziraphale instantaneously, his dick brushing softly against the angel’s thigh through his pants and trousers. His glasses were gone and he looked directly into Aziraphale’s eyes, hesitating for just a moment long enough to ascertain consent before ducking his head and finally - _finally_ \- sealing his lips against Aziraphale’s.

It was absolute ambrosia. Forget Heavenly choirs - Crowley had tried that, and it wasn’t really his scene. Anything from Down Below would be sacrilege to compare. And humans’ creations couldn’t hold a candle to the feeling. No, this was something entirely new. This was an angel and a demon, coming together and blending to create the perfect balance of Good and Evil, one side of a coin flowing into another. It was mind blowing.

Aziraphale seemed to think so, too, because his free hand leapt into Crowley’s hair, pulling hard as his mouth opened to let Crowley’s tongue in. He was finding out first-hand the amazing things Crowley could do with that tongue. Breathless is the wrong word to describe them as they came apart, but it’s the closest we’ll get.

“I love you, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, somewhat superfluously. Crowley laughed, genuine affection filling his smile and his eyes.

“I love you, too, Aziraphale,” he said. “Now, would you like me to teach you how much nicer it feels when someone else is doing the work?”

“Oh,” Aziraphale gasped. “Oh, yes, I rather think I would.”

Crowley had had many, many years to imagine how he’d like this situation to go. And he does have a rather incredible imagination. In the end, none of those theories panned out. What he did was this:

He came.

Aziraphale hadn’t even touched him. Just the thought of Aziraphale wanting him, loving him - _really_ loving him - had him coming into his pants like a human teenager. He rutted against Aziraphale’s leg, humping like a Hell Hound, riding out the waves. Aziraphale’s hand was still in his hair, and his other arm had come up to wrap around him. He was making little noises. Or, wait, was that Crowley? He didn’t have the wherewithal to care.

He slumped down on top of Aziraphale, knowing he wouldn’t crush him, with rapidly cooling ejaculate drying in his pants. Perhaps Aziraphale would be a dear and miracle that away for him in a moment.

He was mortified.

A temptation demon, coming untouched, just from the words of an angel. Yes, he’d really gotten to the bottom of the barrell now.

Aziraphale didn’t seem to mind though, because he was holding onto Crowley for dear life as he wrapped one leg over his hips and thrust against him. It took Crowley a lot of effort and a bit of dexterity to get his hand in between them so he could take Aziraphale into his palm. The heat was scorching, hotter than the flames of Hell, but it was a heat Crowley would gladly burn in.

Not too many moments later Aziraphale was adding his own come to the mess that was Crowley’s clothes.

Crowley removed his hand and, staring Aziraphale directly in the eyes, he licked it clean with an unnaturally adept tongue. That earned him a small groan from the angel below him.

“Bloody good job it was we didn’t start doing this while Heaven and Hell were still on our arses,” Crowley said in between licks. His embarrassment over his release was gone now - all that mattered was how excellent Aziraphale tasted, smelled, looked. He was delectable.

“Quite right,” Aziraphale said. “I imagine we would not have had time to swap bodies to avoid _that_ execution.”

Crowley laughed, and rolled off Aziraphale. He didn’t go far, though, snaking his limbs around the angel’s body. Crowley was still clothed, but it didn’t last long as Aziraphale snapped his fingers, vanishing his suit to Whoever knows where.

“Didn’t say you could take them,” Crowley teased, closing his eyes and settling in. Aziraphale followed suit.

“I thought an even playing field was in order.”

“Quite.”

“Crowley?”

“Hmm?” Crowley hummed.

“That really was very lovely.”

“Next time, angel, I’ll show you the wonders of anal sex.”


End file.
